The War for Souls
by Jack T. Wyatt
Summary: We are at war," said Harry, "not for territory or even for lives, but for the soul of wizardkind."
1. A Summer Job

Chapter 1—A Summer Job 

A white owl fluttered down across the darkening landscape of Surrey, and swooped toward a particular house in a particular block of the town of Little Whinging. The owl passed unnoticed through the streets of the suburban enclave until she finally alighted on the windowsill of the back bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive. Inside, a teenaged boy pulled open the window to allow the owl inside. Had any of the neighbors been outside on the warm summer evening and watching this display, they might have found it rather bizzare. For Harry Potter, the boy in the window, it was all too normal, and yet all too unwelcome.

Harry was a wizard, an almost-sixteen-year-old wizard who attended Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry in the Highlands of Scotland, where he had just finished his fifth year. But that was far from the reason that Harry sat in his room, listlessly feeding owl treats to the bird that had now entered the room. Two weeks earlier, Harry's godfather—the sole parent that the orphaned boy had remaining—was killed in a battle with dark wizards in the Ministry of Magic. Worse still, he was only there because he was trying to save Harry from the evil Lord Voldemort. Worse even than that, Harry should never have been there himself.

Voldemort had tried to murder Harry when he was a year old. But the Killing Curse had backfired on the Dark Lord, destroying his body, and leaving Harry with a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. Through this scar, Harry had a mental link with Lord Voldemort, and could often see his thoughts. Unfortunately, Voldemort had also discovered this, and used it to lure Harry to the Ministry of Magic by sending him visions of Sirius Black, his godfather, being tortured there.

So Harry had gone, against the advice of his friends, and now Sirius was dead to show for it. Harry didn't really blame himself for Sirius' death. And, although his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, had tried to take the blame on himself at the end of the term, Harry didn't really blame him, either. One look at the lone tear rolling down the aged wizard's face had melted Harry's heart. Dumbledore was like a grandfather to him, and in many ways, had always been much closer to a parent figure than Sirius ever was.

Harry did blame Lord Voldemort, and he did blame Bellatrix Lestrange—Voldemort's servant who had fired the curse that killed Sirius. On a lesser level, Harry blamed the whole Ministry. For a year now, ever since Voldemort had been reborn into his body at the end of Harry's fourth year, the Ministry had been denying that fact.

_It's always the innocent who are the first to suffer._ Harry could hear the voice of Firenze the centaur saying that in his first year. And it was true. Cedric Diggory was innocent. He was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, the "spare." And he was dead. Sirius was innocent. He had spent twelve years in the wizarding prison of Azkaban for a crime he never committed, and had died before his name could be cleared.

These thoughts and memories whirling in his head, Harry took the rolled parchment that was attached to the owl's leg, and opened it.

Dear Harry 

_I know you probably aren't in any mood to listen to this, and I know I'm the last person you'd want to hear from, but you're getting it anyway. I would've sent a Howler, but I think that would have upset those worthless Muggles even more, and made it harder on you there._

_When you pulled me out of the Chamber, I was a wreck. I had attacked several people, including my brother's girlfriend and my other brother's best friend, with a basilisk. I had, totally through my own doing, become embroiled in a diary of You-Know-Who's, and let him take over. On top of which, the boy I idolized had nearly died trying to save me. I wanted to crawl back into the Chamber and let that damned snake eat me._

_Then there were the nightmares. For months I couldn't sleep. Every time I tried, I saw his face. I saw that bloody basilisk. I saw you kill it, and I saw it bite you. I saw the look on my parents' faces when they found out what I'd done. It was awful. But they stopped. And they stopped because I forced myself to believe what you had told me in the Chamber._

_It wasn't my fault. Older and wiser wizards than me had fallen for Riddle's spell. It was Riddle's fault._

_Well, Harry, take a lesson. Cedric and Sirius are dead, there's nothing you can do about it. They won't come back. I can't give Colin and Hermione back an entire term, and you can't bring back Sirius. You were fooled by Voldemort, twice. Once he fooled Dumbledore himself, and the other time he fooled the whole Ministry of Magic, so don't feel like you're any more to blame. Get over it, get on with it. We don't have years to wait for you to snap out of this funk you've been in since the Tournament._

_And I won't wait that long._

_Love from,_

_Ginny_

Tears welled up in Harry's emerald green eyes as he read. He had always thought of Ginny as a sweet, innocent child. He had, indeed, saved her from Voldemort three years ago, but even afterwards, it never registered that she might have gone through exactly what he had been suffering for the last year. "Well Ginny," he said to himself, "you do have a knack for bluntness."

Another thought occurred to him as he read through her letter a second time. Harry could barely believe that this was the same girl who stuck her elbow in the butter dish and ran upstairs red-faced when he visited her before his second year. And here she was, lecturing him. _And accurately, too_, he thought bitterly. _After I told her she was too young to go to the Ministry with us._ As he thought back to the horrid, frantic night of his final exam two weeks ago, it was as though he was the character in Dudley's cartoon—the one who needed a light bulb to click on above his head before he saw something that should have been obvious to him. _She's only a year younger than me! Maybe not even. I don't know when her birthday is._ Harry silently cursed himself for thinking too hard about his best friend's sister, and closed his eyes to try to get some sleep.

It was two days before another letter arrived for Harry. This one came on the wing of an owl Harry found slightly familiar., and Hedwig took great offense to the intruder sharing her water dish.

_Harry,_

You have every reason to hate me. I know what I did, and I know you know. I can only beg for your forgiveness, and for you to listen to what I have to say.

The Ministry is not stable. Everyone here believes you now. But I'm afraid that several more questionable individuals are using this as an excuse to rise in the ranks of the Ministry. I have been transferred out of the Minister's Office as a result, and am now working as an assistant to Madam Bones in Magical Law Enforcement. However, I still have managed to discern the existence, but unfortunately, not the nature, of a plot.

A certain well-connected individual has used his connections to avoid justice, and is again well-placed here. I understand that, under his auspices, certain tampering with your guardians may take place. Be careful, Harry.

Percy Weasley

P.S. You may remember Penelope, who was a year behind me at school. She and I are engaged, and will be getting married on August 20. I would be honored if you would come.

Harry stared at the parchment for a moment. His first impulse was disbelief. This was a joke, Percy wouldn't have written him. Then he looked at the owl. "Hermes?" he said tentatively, remembering the name Percy had given his owl. The bird cocked its head and hooted affirmatively, earning an even darker look from Hedwig.

Harry snatched parchment from the spindly desk in his room and penned a rapid letter. He copied the sense of Percy's missive, and dashed off a note to anyone who would respond begging for advice or confirmation. He tied it to Hedwig's leg, and whispered instructions. "Anyone at Grimmauld Place, okay, girl?" He practically threw the bird out the window, then turned to the other owl. "Sorry, nothing for you yet. I'll send something later." Hermes spread his wings, and took off after Hedwig.

Remus Lupin shook his head to clear the sleep, and twisted around again to get more comfortable. He was sitting under an invisibility cloak in front of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and it was three in the morning. This summer, the Order of the Phoenix had insisted—or, more properly, Mad-Eye Moody had insisted, that someone keep guard at all times, to prevent any incursions on the headquarters of the Order. Ever since Sirius had died, the headquarters—which was actually his ancestral house—was of uncertain legal status. Sirius had a will, which left it to the Order, but until he was cleared by the Ministry, it couldn't take effect. So Moody was paranoid as usual, and that meant that Remus was sitting up all night, watching the empty square in front of the Ancient House of Black.

It was fortunate that he was, however, as he saw the snowy owl swoop down over the square, heading straight for the front steps of the house. In an instant, Remus recognized the bird, cast off the cloak, and stood straight up, calling her to him. Hedwig alighted on his arm, and he removed the hastily scribbled note.

"Moody, we have a problem," he whispered towards his chest, and Mad-Eye's voice rose sleepily out of the phoenix pin on his robes.

"What?"

"Letter from Harry. You should take a look at this."

"Be there in a moment." And indeed, seconds later, the old Auror was standing with Remus on the sidewalk, looking over Harry's note.

"Well?" said Remus.

"Not to be trusted," growled Moody. "But, all the same, can't be too careful. I'll put a watch on Potter again."

Remus struggled with thoughts for a second. "Alastor, tell him this time. We can't afford to have him out of the loop."

Moody nodded wordlessly and disappeared with a pop.

Harry woke to find Hedwig sitting on the windowsill, waiting for him to greet her. "Hey, girl. Got something for me?" She hooted happily and stuck out her leg. It was a letter from the Order, specifically from Remus Lupin.

Dear Harry,

Thank you for alerting us. We're putting a guard back on your house just in case, until we can verify the information. Be careful.

Remus

Harry glared. The last thing he wanted was a guard put back on him. He was hoping he wouldn't have to deal with that this summer. But, he thought, it was a good idea, and it would save him having to risk a hearing like last year. So, he resigned himself to being watched, and sat down to read his summer homework.

The students in his year had been given very little summer homework after their O.W.L. exams, as there was little or no certainty that they would take any of the same classes in their N.E.W.T. studies. Harry had, however, been given reading assignments in Transfiguration and Charms. Flitwick and McGonnegal obviously had a great deal of faith in his scores—more than he had himself, truth be told.

After about an hour of reading on the theory behind human transfiguration—as well as some memorable mistakes—Harry figured he had had enough of it, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. For the next several minutes, the only sound in the bedroom was the scratching of a quill as Harry began his first letter of the summer to his friends.

Strange how things go, he thought. Used to be I had no one to write to, now I can barely keep up with it all.

The first letter Harry wrote was to Ginny Weasley. It was only right, he figured, as she had already sent him a letter.

Dear Ginny,

Don't kid yourself. I love hearing from you. And don't ever think that you're not just as much my friend as Ron and Hermione. And Nev and Luna, come to think of it. I don't know whether you think you owe me for the Chamber or not, but if you did think that, trust me, you've paid in full.

I hope I get out of here soon. The Dursleys are just ignoring me (yes, that's an improvement), but it's damned lonely. I'd much rather be there with you guys.

Harry paused. He had no idea how to finish the letter. He could just sign his name, but that would seem too businesslike. He could put a simple "Love," but that might seem too forward, and he didn't want to lead her on. He could put, "Your Friend," especially as he just called her that in the letter, but...Wait, this is Ginny. Why am I...

He cursed himself mentally for being so introspective, and penned a quick conclusion.

Love,

Harry

Then it occurred to him that she might know something about the unusual letter he had received recently.

P.S. Got a letter from Percy. Do you know what's going on with him?

Harry rolled up the letter and sealed it, tucking it aside. One down, four to go.

Harry wrote for most of the rest of the day. By early evening, Hedwig was eyeing the stack of letters apprehensively, somewhat intimdated at the notion of delivering all of these letters to all of these recipients. "Well, girl, three to OSC," he said. As soon as he did, he realized that he had no earthly clue where Neville or Hermione lived. Odd, I've known them for five years and still don't even know the area of the country they're from.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon's shout from downstairs alerted Harry that he was home.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he answered, slowly walking down the stairs.

"Boy, you think those freaks threatening me can keep you from working?"

"No, Uncle Vernon."

"Good. Starting tomorrow, you're going to help Dudley with his training. He needs someone to help him with his weights and the like, and a sparring partner."

It was the last two words that struck Harry. Uncle Vernon wanted him to return to a life as Dudley's punching bag. "Um...Uncle Vernon...uh...wouldn't it make more sense to have someone spar with Dudley who knows how to box. You know, wiz—my folks...well...we have other ways than punching."

"BOY! Are you threatening me? Or Dudley?"

"No, sir, just—"

"Good. Tomorrow, I want you working with Dudley. Oh, and that gutter in the back needs to be pinned up again. And you might see if your Aunt needs anything done." He went on, muttering about how he couldn't let Dudley do any chores that might interfere with his training, and Harry tuned him out. Nope, no effect at all.

Harry shrugged as Uncle Vernon finished, and started back up the stairs to his room. "Oh, no you don't!" he heard, and slowly turned around again. "There's one more thing. I know your type probably doesn't use money, but I won't have you freeloading off of us anymore. I've arranged a job for you at a packing company. You start on Monday, and I want to see twenty-five quid a week out of it. On top of that, we'll see how much you cost us."

"But, Uncle Vernon, I can't leave. The—" He broke off. Uncle Vernon didn't know about the protection spells. Oh, well, just have to work with it. "If that's all, I have to finish some letters to my friends." Uncle Vernon turned appreciably pale, and Harry hurried back up the stairs to send off his mail.

Harry reached the end of the week without incident. He hadn't had much time for letters, as Dudley's training had taken a fair share of his time, and Uncle Vernon had set him to work on the back gutter as soon as he could. By the time Monday rolled around, and with it, his first—and hopefully only—Muggle job, the contents of Percy's letter had all but slipped his mind totally. In fact, when he left the house under the watchful eye of Uncle Vernon at seven that morning, he had even forgotten that the Order would be on guard outside.

Of course, it didn't take long to remember that someone was there, as he heard a dull thud, and the shrubbery shook as an invisible someone toppled into the hedge. Tonks, thought Harry. And I'm going to be chased all day by furious Order members.

Of course, Uncle Vernon didn't notice Tonks tumble through the hedge. He was far too busy inveighing against his target of the morning. Today, it seemed, the Labour Party had enraged him with some proposal regarding employee relations. Harry tried to block him out as he spouted his rage against "the PM and his Commie crooks."

Uncle Vernon was so loud this morning that he didn't notice the unusally loud apparition noise—or what Harry was certain was one—as they emerged from the car in front of 'Greene and Donne, Ltd., Movers.' Vernon went on inside and introduced himself to the foreman, and Harry turned to where he thought the noise had come from. "Tonks?"

"Not hardly, lad," came Mad-Eye's gruff voice.

"You going to watch me all day?"

"Unless you'd like to risk another one of those hearings, I think I'd better." Harry snorted, but nodded his approval, and went on inside.

Uncle Vernon had apparently changed his invective from the Prime Minister to Harry, now, and was informing the foreman that Harry was lazy, shiftless, irredeemably criminal, and probably a drug addict as well. Then he turned to Harry, and informed him that he had the job thanks to a deal between Grunnings and the moving company, and that if Harry dared to mess up once, he would make everything that happened in the first eleven years of his life seem like a walk in the park.

The foreman, Harry was relieved to see, was basically ignoring everything Vernon had to say, and looked at Harry with only mild interest. "You on crack, boy?"

"No, sir."

"Okay. Go through here, talk to Sandy. She'll get you set with your training."

Sandy was a middle-aged woman who looked rather like a dark-haired Mrs. Weasley. She showed Harry through into a nother room, and set him down to watch what seemed to be an interminable series of videos.

Mr. Weasley would love these, Harry thought as he watched the fourth in the run of short movies. So far he had been taught how not to lift a box, how to lift a box, how to interact with customers, and was now learning what exactly constituted harassment of fellow employees. It was with a slight interest that Harry realized that virtually everything that Draco Malfoy did would be considered harassment in the Muggle world. Lucky for him he'll never even meet a Muggle.

Harry was allowed to break for lunch, then sent back into the room to watch his fifth video, which seemed somehow to be about a potato. He wasn't entirely sure what a potato had to do with moving boxes—or teamwork, which was supposedly the point of the video—but there it was. For some reason, he thought Grunnings probably didn't have training videos about potatoes. Harry just couldn't see Uncle Vernon going in for any of this. Maybe this is what he was grumbling about this morning.

The rest of the day went by rather the same. Harry watched a lot more videos, learned what could and couldn't be legally transported on the company's lorries, discovered more than he ever wanted to know about hazardous chemicals, and then was told to fill out a stack of forms the size of his Potions text. That went alright, until Harry was told to produce his birth certificate. That was a problem. Harry wasn't sure if he even had a birth certificate. He told Sandy he would try to bring it the next day, and they sent him home.

"Moody?" he said as he got into the parking lot to wait for Uncle Vernon. There was no answer. "Anyone here?" Still there was no reply. This isn't good.

Percy's warning flew to his mind. Certain tampering with your guardians. What if this was what they were doing? Get me away from Privet Drive so that I can be vulnerable.

Just then, Harry heard the pop of someone apparating in, and spun to face the source of the noise. "Put that away, Harry. No need to hex me." Remus Lupin pulled off the invisibility cloak, and smiled at Harry.

"Professor Lupin? Why weren't you here earlier?"

"Shift change, Harry. Moody had to come back and tell us where you were. We've had two people on you since this morning. What are you doing away from Privet Drive?"

"My Uncle insisted I get a job. He set me up with something here. I guess he wants me to pay my way in the Muggle world now."

"I think I need to have a little talk with Vernon," said Lupin. "And I'm not your professor anymore, so please, call me Remus."

"Do you think you could get me home, Pro—Remus?"

"Well, perhaps it might be best to wait for your Uncle. As soon as he picks you up, I'll apparate to your house and wait for you there." Harry nodded glumly. He had hoped to avoid the evening ride with Uncle Vernon.

Harry and Remus sat on the steps for a few more minutes before the ex-professor spoke again. "Are you holding up okay?"

"I suppose," said Harry slowly. "Merlin, I miss him, though."

"I know. I know. It seems hard to believe he's gone."

"If I had just listened to—"

"Don't, Harry. Sirius died because he stood up against Voldemort, not because of anything you did. We should be proud of him. He did the right thing, not the easy thing. And that makes him a hero."

"Is there much chance of clearing his name?"

"Not while Fudge is in office. Right now, he's desperately trying to salvage his term, but..."

"But?"

"Well, I best not talk about it here. You'll know soon enough. No," he added quickly, catching the anger rising in Harry's eyes, "I'm not hiding things from you. It's just not something to talk about outside Headquarters."

"What's happening with that, now that Sirius is...well...you know."

"Harry, you have to be able to say it. He's dead. He's up there, wherever it is, with James and Lily, and he's not coming back. As for Grimmauld Place, well...he left a will, but unless he's cleared it becomes inoperative. And then his nearest relative inherits."

"Bellatrix?"

"Ah, no. Sadly, the old pureblood families have built in requirements for male offspring to inherit. So, unless Sirius or Regulus had a son we don't know about, that means—"

"Malfoy."

"Exactly. We're being very—"

"Remus, get under the cloak! That's Uncle Vernon's car!" Remus never finished his sentence. He ducked under the invisibility cloak, and watched as Vernon pulled up, screaming for Harry to hurry into the car.

Harry heard the faint sound of Remus disapparating as he closed the car door, and listened to Vernon ranting on about more governmental figures for most of the ride home. "Uncle Vernon," he ventured when the large man took a break to breathe.

"What, boy!"

"They need my birth certificate at that place. Do you have it?"

"Of course we do! How do you think we enrolled you in school all that time ago. Petunia will—what the bloody hell is that?"

They had rounded the corner onto Magnolia Crescent, and could make out the tops of the houses on Privet Drive. Over one of them—one which Harry knew was Number Four—was a sight that made Harry's stomach drop. A giant green skull floated in the air, with a red snake lolling out of the mouth like a hideous tongue. The Dark Mark.


	2. The Escape

Chapter 2—The Escape 

Tampering with my guardians! Not getting me away to harm me, getting me away to kill Aunt Petunia and break the spell forever.

"BOY! This has something to do with your kind, doesn't it?"

"Voldemort," whispered Harry, feeling more defeated than he had since Sirius died. _I wonder if they put Uncle Vernon under the Imperius Curse. No, probably just planted the idea, it goes along with what he's like anyway._

Vernon had pulled the car up in front of the house, which looked in reasonably good shape—except for the six wizards in front of it—and had jumped out to run inside. Harry was somewhat shocked. It was the first time he had ever seen any sort of affection out of Vernon Dursley at all.

It was no surprise at all when Kingsley Shacklebolt emerged from the knot of what Harry knew to be Order members and held up a hand to stop Vernon from entering.

And it was even less of a surprise when Vernon turned to the car, in full view of the neighbors, the six wizards on his front lawn, and the evening paper man—who was standing and staring at the Dark Mark above the Dursley residence—and screamed. "POTTER! YOU DID THIS!"

_Oh, bugger._ "No, Uncle Vernon. But I didn't stop it. I'm sorry."

"OHO! You think you can attack my family and just get away with saying I'm sorry!"

"Uncle Vernon, I was at work—"Before Harry could finish his sentence, Vernon's fist connected with Harry's jaw, and he felt the bone break. Harry dropped to the ground, and watched as at least two stunning spells—plus one he didn't recognize—hit Vernon in the back. The clump of wizards separated, and Harry could make out Kingsley, Remus, Moody, Bill Weasley, and another two that he couldn't identify. Lupin rushed over to him.

"Harry, are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern.

"I urigh'." Harry could barely form the words through his broken jaw. "Ju."

"_Emmendo!_" Harry felt the bone shift back into place, although it was still sore. "That ought to hold you until we can get a healer. We wanted to wait for you before...well, I think...inside..."

"I know. Just...let's go." He strode to the door and pushed, but nothing happened. The door didn't move. "Remus?"

"No, we didn't seal it. I wonder if _they_ did." He pulled out his wand and cast an opening spell at the door, to no effect.

"Well," said Moody, clumping to the front of the porch. "Stand back. _REDUCTO!_" The front door flew back, blasted off its hinges by the spell, and landed in the hallway. "Potter, you first."

Harry fought down the rising bile in his chest and stepped manfully through the front door of his erstwhile home. It was silent—eerily so. The first thing Harry saw was the television. It had been blasted with a Reductor curse that had blown the thing apart. He glanced around the sitting room. It was obvious that everything Muggle in the place had been blasted or destroyed somehow—from the television to the stereo to Dudley's boxing trophy. "Awful," muttered one of the wizards Harry didn't know, and Remus dared to open the door to the kitchen.

Harry looked around his father's friend into the kitchen, and saw what he had been dreading since he had entered the subdivision. Petunia Dursley, his mother's last surviving relative, lay face up on the floor, her eyes cold and unblinking, her body unmarked and whole—an obvious victim of the Killing Curse. Behind her, his body curled in a fetal position, was Harry's cousin Dudley, dead as well. Harry turned away from the bodies of his relatives and vomited all over Aunt Petunia's usually spotless kitchen floor.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore reclined into his chair in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had just finished a lengthy fire-call from Amelia Bones, the head of the Magical Law Enforcement department, and was looking forward to a few moments meditation—perhaps assisted by his Pensieve—before the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix that evening.

But the very moment that he closed his eyes, he heard a horrid screech come from the open window behind him and watched as a black raven swooped in and dropped a red envelope on his desk. Dumbledore was no stranger to Howlers, but to have one delivered by a raven was an odd thing, indeed. He cautiously sliced it open with a silver letter opener, and listened as a horrid hissing voice filled his chambers.

DUMBLEDORE, YOU FOOL! DID YOU THINK BY HIDING THE BOY WITH THOSE FILTHY MUGGLES YOU COULD PROTECT HIM FROM ME? HAH! AS THOUGH A MUGGLE COULD STAND UP TO THE GREATEST SORCERER IN THE WORLD! EVEN NOW, THAT FOOLISH OLD BLOOD MAGIC HAS BEEN BREACHED! GIVE UP NOW, OLD FOOL!

Dumbledore had heard enough. "_Destructo._" The letter exploded into tiny pieces at the spell, and the voice ceased. There was no mistaking the sender, nor the knowledge that he was not bluffing. That was not Voldemort's style. Dumbledore closed his eyes again, and forcibly calmed himself as a single tear escaped his eyes.

* * *

As Harry continued to vomit on the floor of Number Four, Privet Drive, Alastor Moody was clunking outside as fast as his wooden leg would carry him. He stumped his way down the walk, outside the anti-apparition wards that had been put up around the Dursley house, past the still-unconscious form of Vernon Dursley, and disappeared.

A moment later, he reappeared in front of Number Seven, Wisteria Walk, the home of Arabella Figg. The old Squib was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and the primary guard over Harry when he was with his Muggle relatives. Moody was concerned for her. It would be totally unlike her to allow Death Eaters to slip into Privet Drive without her knowledge, even if she was unable to do magic to defend the place.

As he walked past the invisible barrier which prevented apparition on her property, he saw the most disconcerting sight of the whole disconcerting afternoon. One of Arabella's kneazles—the cat-like creatures which monitored the neighborhood with her—was lying, stone dead, behind the hedge.

"Arabella!" No answer. He pounded on the door. "Figg! Open up!" The door creaked open, and Moody was stunned speechless. The old woman lay on the floor, barely alive. Blood dripped from her mouth, and her eyes were rolled back into her head. This was no time for Ministry restrictions. Moody grabbed a vase off the table by her door, and quickly transfigured it into a portkey. Muttering a stasis spell, he touched her finger to the vase and transported the two of them to St. Mungo's hospital.

The minute they arrived in the lobby of St. Mungo's, a mediwizard rushed forward. "Cruciatus," said Moody gruffly, hiding the emotion in his voice. "Get her taken care of, quick!" As the wizard levitated Arabella's body down a hallway, Moody shouted after him. "She's a Squib, Billis!"

Harry was just getting back to his feet when Mad-Eye's voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of Remus' lapel. "Remus! Arabella got attacked! I've taken her to St. Mungo's! Get Potter back to Headquarters on the double!"

* * *

"Mrs. Figg?" said Harry weakly. "No..."

"Harry," said Remus, bending to touch his shoulder. "Can you get your things?"

"They're in the bedroom," he mumbled. "Go ahead." Remus nodded to Bill and Kingsley, and the two men walked up the stairs to Harry's room.

"We have to go to Grimmauld Place. Are you okay with that?"

"I guess," he said. "Not much of a choice, is there?"

Remus didn't answer, but a moment later, Bill came down the stairs, levitating Harry's trunk in front of him. "Nice of you not to have unpacked, Harry," he said, forcing a smile. "But why did you have a letter from my baby sister sitting on your pillow?"

"Bill," said Remus sternly. "Not now. Harry, can you fly?"

"I doubt it," he said truthfully. "I don't feel very well."

"Alright. Kingsley, you're the only one who can make a portkey, so if you would. Bill, Dan, revive Mr. Dursley and try to reason with him. If he turns violent, freeze him and take him to Morag to be held until he calms down."

Kingsley held out a frying pan to Harry, and he touched it, along with Remus and one of the other men. He felt the familiar jerk behind his navel and the house on Privet Drive vanished from his sight as he tumbled into the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

* * *

Of all of the magical methods of defense available to the wizarding world, Severus Snape had decided that he intensly disliked anti-apparition wards. They were horribly inconvenient, and Dumbledore relied on them far too much. And he hated having to apparate in the middle of Grimmauld Place and walk up to the front door of Number Twelve for Order meetings. It would have been far simpler to merely apparate into the kitchen of the house, where the meetings were held. So Severus was already in a foul mood when he tapped lightly on the knocker, and the door swung open to reveal Molly Weasley. "Is the Headmaster here?" he said curtly.

"He's in the kitchen. For goodness sake, keep your voice down. We don't want _her_ to start up."

"I suppose not." He followed the red-haired woman down the stairs to the stone-walled kitchen, and found the core of the Order of the Phoenix already assembled, waiting for him.

"Ah, Severus, glad to see you," said Dumbledore. "Please, we were just waiting to hear your report before deciding on our next step."

"As you already know," said Snape without sitting down, "a group of Death Eaters took advantage of Mr. Potter's absence from his relatives' house today, and attacked the Muggles. His aunt and her son were killed. As Vernon Dursley is not a blood relative of Potter's mother, the protections have been destroyed. In addition, Arabella Figg was tortured under Cruciatus for a significant period of time, and is in St. Mungo's. I do not know whether she will ever make a full recovery." Apparently, not everyone knew this already, as the looks around the table were mixed between shock, horror, and anger.

"Did Voldemort order the attack?" asked Remus Lupin.

"Yes, the Dark Lord did order the attack, and he apparently sent word of it to Professor Dumbledore upon its successful completion. He seems to take a perverse pleasure in irking the Headmaster. I have information that also indicates that, remarkable though it may seem, Potter was not in the least to blame for being out of the house. As an aside, is he here?"

"Upstairs," said Molly. "I gave him some Dreamless Sleep Potion, he should be awake in the morning."

"Very good," said Snape. "It would seem that Lucius Malfoy, in an attempt to recover from the debacle caused by Potter and his friends at the Ministry, placed Dursley under some form of suggestibility spell—although not the Imperius Curse—and that resulted in Dursley forcing the boy to obtain a Muggle job outside the house."

"Harry said his uncle wanted him to pay his own way," said Remus. "We had a guard on Harry, but we never thought they would attack the house while he was gone. It didn't make sense."

"Lupin, it would seem that the Dark Lord is slightly more intelligent than you give him credit for," said Snape bitterly. "He assumed that we would have a guard on the boy, and he decided that killing Mrs. Dursley would destroy the blood protection forever—which, I might add, it has done."

"The question, then," said Dumbledore, "is how best to protect Harry since we cannot now rely on that which has served us so well."

"Headmaster, if I may add one more thing," said Snape. Dumbledore nodded for him to proceed. "The Dark Lord has become somewhat obsessed with destroying not only Potter, but his friends who were with him at the Ministry. He believes that it is due to their interference that he failed to obtain the prophecy, and that the Ministry is no longer a silent ally of his."

"That is to be expected," said Dumbledore. "What do you recommend?"

"I would suggest that we place Potter and his friends in a safe house, much as this is, under the Fidelius Charm, until the beginning of the school year. It would be the best way to ensure that they are not in unreasonable danger."

"That's an idea," said Moody. "Creative. I like it."

"What about their families?" said Molly. "Harry doesn't have any, and I suppose we're alright, being in the Order and all, but Hermione's parents are Muggles. And Mr. Lovegood is a target for You-Know-Who already, thanks to the article he published last year. And I don't know about Neville's family."

"We've already got a guard on the Grangers," said Moody. "They're being watched continually by two Order members. But we don't have the manpower to guard qualified wizards. And Longbottom's parents are as safe where they are as we could ever make them."

"Thank you, Alastor. Molly, do you think you can arrange for Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood to join us. Perhaps at The Burrow."

"Albus, I don't think that it would be wise to have the children hidden there," said Remus. "But my parents had a place in Wales that we might be able to use. They left it to me when they died, and I haven't used it but rarely."

"Another consideration, Headmaster," said Snape. "If you are planning to place the children under Fidelius, you should find a Secret-Keeper who would not be easily linked to them. The Dark Lord, as you may have noticed today, will not be easily fooled."

Dumbledore held up his hand to stop the discussion. "Very well, I think we have a plan. Molly, if you could take Harry back to The Burrow with you in the morning, and ask Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood to join you there?" Molly nodded. "Alastor, would you be willing to serve as Secret-Keeper for the children?"

"Of course."

"Wonderful. And Remus, do you suppose you could go to this house in Wales this evening and make it ready for the children to stay there? And would you also be willing to keep an eye on them, as I think they would trust you more than the rest of us, and you would alert less suspicion than, perhaps, Molly or Arthur?"

Remus smiled. "Certainly. I'll be leaving now, then." He left the kitchen and Severus heard the front door shut softly behind him.

"Albus," said Molly softly. "I'm worried for him. He's just lost the closest thing to a parent he ever had, and now he's lost every relative he's ever had..." Severus couldn't handle any more sentimentality. He curtly took his leave of the Headmaster, and departed up the stairs.

* * *

Harry felt himself being gently woken. "Harry? Harry, dear, time to get up."

"Just a minute, Aunt Petunia." _What? Aunt Petunia was never that gentle. Aunt Petunia's dead._ "Who's there?" He sat bolt upright in his bed, and saw the caring face of Mrs. Weasley standing by his side. "Mrs. Weasley?"

"Harry, dear, how are you doing?"

"Better than I might," he said wryly. "How's Uncle Vernon."

"He's been taken into custody by the Order. More for his protection than anything. And he's still in quite a state, dear. Not that you could have done anything," she added hastily.

"Mrs. Weasley, if I'd been there..."

"Don't even think it, dear. If you'd been there, you would have been killed, too. This is the fault of You-Know-Who and Lucius Malfoy." Harry saw a gleam of hatred in the kind woman's eyes as she said the last name. Harry knew why, too. Malfoy had been the mastermind behind the plot that nearly killed her daughter in Harry's second year.

"Are Ron and Ginny here?" said Harry, forcing his mind onto more pleasant subjects.

"No. We're going to The Burrow as soon as you feel up to Floo travel, though."

Harry leapt from his bed as though he had been shocked, then stopped suddenly. "Mrs. Weasley, if they attacked Privet Drive, then..." The sentence trailed off. He didn't want to say the thought that was racing through his mind.

"Don't worry, Harry. The Burrow is perfectly well protected. I doubt Merlin himself could get in uninvited the way Albus has it warded." Harry knew she was exaggerating, but if Mrs. Weasley felt secure...

"You know," he said as he pulled on his trainers. "I never liked them, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

"I know, dear, I know. Come on and let's get home, Ron will be spare with worry by now." Harry smiled thinking of his best friend's concern.

Harry didn't like the spinning and whirling of Floo travel, but having travelled by portkey—which was infinitely more nauseating—after having vomited repeatedly the night becore, he was in no mood to complain. He followed Mrs. Weasley into the fireplace, then followed her out into the kitchen of her home, just in time to be hit with a flying, red-haired cannonball.

"Hi, Ginny," he said, prising his friend off him.

"RON! He's here!" Harry heard the thunder of footsteps on the rickety stairs, and saw his best friend tear around the corner into the kitchen.

"Harry, are you alright? Bill said they attacked—"

"I'm fine, mate. The Dursleys aren't, but I am."

"What happened?" said Ginny, but Harry shook his head.

"Later."

"Now, children, go into the sitting room and I'll have Hermione and Luna come in and join you when they get here," said Mrs. Weasley.

"What, Hermione's coming?" said Ron, a look of sheer terror on his face.

"Why, yes, Ron, but I think I best let Professor Dumbledore explain it to you."

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door, and everyone ran to get it. But instead of Hermione, it was Luna Lovegood, who looked as surprised as ever. "Why, hello, Harry," she said, seeing him off to the side. "I didn't expect to see you here. Hello, Ronald." She breezed past Harry and Ron, and into the sitting room.

They hadn't even time to react before Hermione and Remus Lupin tumbled into their midst, clutching a copy of the _The Collected Works of Shakespeare_.

Hermione jumped up and rushed to wrap Harry in a hug. "HARRY! Are you alright? We've been so worried about you. And when Professor Lupin said—"

"Geez, Hermione, let the man breathe," said Ron.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

"Remus," said Mrs. Weasley, "is Albus coming?"

"No, Molly, 'fraid not. He's had to go into the Ministry today—Wizengamot business. I'm going to explain it to this lot, and then we get to go fetch Neville from his grandmother."

"Explain what?" said Ron.

"Molly, I'm sorry, but I have to be careful. _Murus Silencio!_" A thick cloud seemed to descend on the sitting room, leaving Mrs. Weasley on the outside. "Now, Harry, I don't mean to override your freedom, but this is what's happening. Voldemort has become rather obsessed with destroying not only you, but also everyone who was at the Department of Mysteries."

"Oh, no! I'm sorry, guys, I—"

"Harry, shut it," said Ron. "We begged to go, remember."

"Be that as it may, what's done is done," said Lupin. "Now, Harry, the remainder is for you to tell. But remember that your friends are your strength, and to rely on them."

"Do you know it?"

"Sirius told me," he admitted. "Last year, while we were holed up in Grimmauld Place."

"How did he know?" said Harry, his eyes flashing.

"Relax, Harry. When it was clear that you were the person spoken of, Dumbledore told your father. When he went into hiding, he told Sirius—in case anything happened to your parents."

"Told what?" said Hermione. "What's this all about?"

Remus looked pointedly at Harry. "Your strength, Harry."

Harry nodded, and looked at his friends. "You know about the prophecy that was made about me before I was born." They all nodded. "Well, the record was smashed—thank Merlin—in the Ministry two weeks ago. But there was another record of it—in the memory of the person who heard it."

"Who heard it?" asked Ron.

"Dumbledore. Trelawney—go figure—gave the prophecy back before I was born."

"I knew that," said Hermoine. Harry looked at her, astonished. "Well, the little ball said S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. And I remember reading somwhere that Dumbledore's full name was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. A.P.W.B.D. So I figured he must have heard it. Then I realized that Professor Trelawney must have given it—her initials are S.T., and she gave that prophecy about Sirius and Wormtail in our third year, remember, Harry?"

"Of course. Well, anyway, Dumbledore told me the prophecy—or, rather, showed it to me in his Pensieve." He got a distant look in his eyes, and thought back to the horrible night after the Battle at the Ministry. "_The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches...born as the seventh month dies...born to those who have thrice defied him...and the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._"

"Harry..."

"I know, Hermione. I have to kill Voldemort, or die at his hand. There's no other way."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but instead flung her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. "Oh, Harry," said Ginny quietly, hugging him from the other side. "How awful for you."

"If you guys want to...what was it Percy said...sever all ties with me, I understand."

"Are you daft," said Ron. "You need us now, more than ever. Face it, mate, you're stuck with us, for better or worse."

"Harry," said Luna, her voice uncharacteristically taut, "we believe in you."

"Thanks, guys, I...I can't..."

"Your strength, Harry," said Remus. "The power the Dark Lord knows not."

"My friends," he said, finding his voice again. "All of you," he added, smiling at his father's last remaining friend.

"Now, Harry, because of the attack on Privet Drive, we have had to come up with another rmeans of protecting you. I have a house in Wales that my parents kept as a summer cottage. It's always been unplottable and warded heavily—no one wanted to come across a nine or ten year old werewolf unsuspectingly—and we're placing it under the Fidelius Charm. All of you, along with Neville, are going to stay there until the school year begins. It's the best idea we could come up with, what with the uncertainty around Sirius' will and the instability in the Ministry."

"Why do you feel the need to watch me constantly?" said Harry. "If I have to fight Voldemort, why is the Order keeping me under lock and key?"

"Harry, don't you understand. We're not keeping you from doing anything. If you were to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, and Voldemort attacked you, would you be ready to fight him?"

Harry shook his head. "Then you understand. The Order exists to protect you, Harry. We're buying you the time you need to prepare to defeat him. And, if I might say so myself, the time you need to live a somewhat normal adolescence."

Harry's friends laughed at this, and he couldn't help but join in. "The darkness can be pierced only by a stronger light," said Luna dreamily. "The light of life itself."

Everyone fell silent. "Luna," said Remus, "I'm sorry I haven't had the pleasure of seeing you in several years, but I assure you, you are one of the most perceptive people I have ever seen. Yes, Harry, live your life. Remember that Voldemort's greatest weapon is fear—and don't cow to it."

Harry looked at his friends, at his strength, and the truth of Remus' words sank in.

Remus lifted the charm, and Mrs. Weasley set down a plate of food in front of each of the students. "Eat up, dears, before you leave. I'll see you in a few days, I suppose."

"Is Neville coming here?" asked Harry.

"No," said Remus, digging into his sausage. "We're going to his grandmother's manor with a portkey, collecting him, and then going on to Wales."

Harry ate quickly, and soon everyone had collected their trunks and were standing around a Butterbeer bottle that was the portkey to Longbottom Manor.

"Thank Merlin you're here!" shouted Neville as they dropped unceremoniously into the entrence hall of the massive Tudor manor house. "Gran's been unbearable waiting for you."

"Ah, Mrs. Longbottom," said Remus, standing and brushing his robes straight. "Is everything ready for us to be off?"

"Indeed it is, Mr. Lupin," said Neville's grandmother, "but would you—"She broke off as a large explosion was heard from the front lawn.

"What the devil?" said Ron.

Lupin stuck his head outside the door, and ducked back just as a curse blew the massive timber door off its hinges. "Death Eaters! Get out of here!"

Mrs. Longbottom pointed toward a door in the side of the room. "Come on," shouted Neville. "I'll show you!" As they reached the door and opened it to reveal a flight of stone stairs, he turned back to his grandmother. "Gran, get out!" The students fled down the stairs and slammed the door behind them.

Hermione spun and locked the door as they feld down the stone-walled corridor at the foot of the stairs. Neville led them down the corridor, up another flight of stairs, and they emerged in a greenhouse. "Behind here," he hissed, and they ducked behind a table full of Mandrake Roots to hide. A few moments later, Remus appeared.

"Good," he whispered. "You're all here. They didn't put up anti apparition wards, since they knew you can't apparate. They just destroyed the portkey, and, unfortunately, I can't create a new one."

"So we're trapped," said Hermione.

"It would seem that way," said Remus. "I brought your trunks, shrunk and feather-light. Here." He pulled six miniature Hogwarts trunks out of his pocket and set them on the floor.

"We're not trapped," said Harry. "Enlarge the trunks again. Luna, do you have a broom?"

"I have a Nimbus," she said. "I was planning on trying for the Ravenclaw team this term."

"Brilliant," said Ron. "I see." He grabbed his Cleansweep out of his trunk and let it hover in front of him.

"Sorry, Gin, but your broom is just too slow. Climb on behind me. Neville, tell Remus somewhere to apparate to that's nearby—but not too near—then get on behind Luna." Hermione already had a hand on Ron's broom.

"Dunharrow," said Neville abruptly. "It's a big hill, with a rather spotty stand of rowan on top. There's a quarry cut out of the south face of it, an old one full of water."

"I think I can manage," said Remus. "How far is it from here?"

"About ten miles. It's just past that wood." He pointed out the window of the greenhouse to a thickly forested dale that scooped down from the small rise on which the manor house sat.

"Okay," said Harry. "Remus, get the trunks. Follow me, and quickly!" He blasted a hole in the roof of the greenhouse, and shot off vertically through the gap.

It didn't take long for the Death Eaters to see the six students escaping the greenhouse on brooms. Harry pressed himself flat to the handle of his Firebolt and headed straight for the trees. At least one of the Death Eaters had a broom, Harry realized as he noticed someone take off from the front lawn and head straight for them.

"One behind us!" shouted Ron, who was trailing the line of brooms. A curse whipped past Harry's ear, and he dove lower. The frontmost pines of the forest were getting closer as he zipped towards the margin of the woods. Luna was at his heels, but so was one of the Death Eaters.

"Get him," he shouted backwards, and Ginny fired off a hex. There was a screech and a thud as the spell connected with its target, and one of the masked riders dropped off his broom.

Harry ws entering the wood now, the lowest branches of the pines shaking as he shot past them. He was in full flying mode now, paying no heed to the jets of light that occasionally flashed over his shoulder, nor the answering shots that Ginny, Neville, and Hermione sent towards the rider.

Whoever he was, he was very good. Harry didn't think anyone could keep up with him, but this guy was sticking right with the line of students. "TURN LEFT, HARRY!" came Neville's voice through the whipping wind. Harry threw up a hand in acknowledgement, and banked hard right.

Everyone followed him, including the Death Eater. He circled a tree and took off in the direction Neville had indicated. Up, down, sideways—Harry dodged and weaved among the thickening pines and junipers of the wood. One moment he was skimming the blanket of needles on the ground, the next he was looping over a branch thirty feet in the air. It was all his friends could do to stay with him. Occasionally a stray branch nicked his face, but he ignored the sting and kept flying. The man in the dark robes refused to give up, though, matching Harry maneuver for maneuver.

Suddenly, with a flash of light, Harry burst from the trees, and nearly into a dark, rocky mass jutting straight up from the gently rolling countryside—Dunharrow Hill.

Harry had been imagining something along the lines of Stoatshead Hill near The Burrow—a gently sloping, grassy protuberance. Dunharrow was far from gentle or grassy. It was a steep, sharp outcropping, marked with boulders and rocky patches from the foot up to the summit, where there was a stand of very old trees. On one side was a huge gash—the quarry Neville had mentioned—filled with a dark, brackish water. It was for this that Harry aimed.

He signalled Luna and Ron to break off, and they did, swooping down to a little shoulder on the eastern side of the hill. Harry, meanwhile, dove into the quarry itself, skimming the water, then shooting upward in a spiral that no ordinary rider could have mimicked. But his pursuer stayed right with him, firing a couple hexes that missed before settling in to pursuit again.

They swooped around the shoulder where the others had landed, giving Hermione a clear shot at the Death Eater. She missed. Harry tried to lose him in the thicket at the summit, to no avail. "Who the bloody hell is that?" he hissed backwards as he accelerated again towards the quarry lake in a battlefield Wronski Feint.

Ginny leaned up and whispered a name in his ear. "No...it couldn't be...but still..." He dove at the water at full speed as though he were chasing an invisible snitch that was sitting on the still, black surface of the pond. At the last second, he pulled up, and his opponent matched him exactly. "Damn it all!"

A curse came at him a little high. "Sloth grip!" he shouted and rolled over on his broom. "Knock him off his goddamned broom, Ginny!" He righted them, and stopped nearly instantly. Before the pursuer could react, he was past them.

"_STUPEFY!_" they shouted at once, and the red light caught him in the back. In one instant, the man was falling from his broom, unconscious. A second later, the mask came off his face, revealing a familiar hooked nose and thick, dark hair and eyebrows. Hermione screamed, and Ron took off from the shoulder. Harry dove towards his plummeting adversary, but too slowly. With an extra effort, Ron reached out and caught the falling body of Viktor Krum seconds before he hit the water.


	3. The Safe House

**Chapter 3-The Safe House**

"No! NO!" In the five years he had known her, Harry had never once seen Hermione this upset. The only thing he could think of that came close was her crying fit in the bathroom first year-the one that had ended with a battle against a troll. Viktor Krum was on the ground, unconscious, on the upper lip of the quarry gouged into the side of Dunharrow Hill. Hermione was sobbing—her whole body quaking violently. Ron was trying desperately to soothe her—his own issues with Krum forgotten in the need to help his best friend. Worst of all was the Dark Mark burned unmistakeably into Krum's right forearm, and the indisputable fact that he had been trying to kill them for the last fifteen minutes. And to make matters even worse, Remus was nowhere to be found.

"Hermione, shhh." Ron pulled her into his arms—the first time that Harry could recall his friend ever initiating physical contact with a girl—and awkwardly stroked her head as he tried to calm her. "Look, maybe he was under Imperius or something. We don't know."

"We will in a minute," Harry said. "_Ennervate._" Krum blinked his eyes a few times, and looked around.

"Krum," said Harry coldly. "Explain yourself." The Bulgarian looked around, and saw Harry, Neville, Ginny, and Luna all with their wands trained on him, and himself wandless.

"Dark Lord...Karkaroff...told me to capture her..." He pointed at Hermione. "The Dark Lord does not like Herm-own-ninny. I do not know vy."

"Viktor, how could you?"

"It vas the only vay. I could not fight him. Karakaroff, he brought me to the Dark Lord. He threatened my beloffed if I did not do as he said."

"Your what?" said Ron, his voice rising.

"My—how do you say—betrothed. My Sonia."

"YOU LYING, CHEATING, EVIL SON OF A—"

"RON!"

"How—how...to her..." Ron was sputtering now, his face a deep purple.

"Ron, shut up!" snapped Hermione.

"When did he take you to Voldemort?" said Harry, trying to defuse the fight. _Good, defuse a fight by talking about Voldemort._

"Right ven I got back to Durmstrang after the Tournament. Karkaroff came to me and said that the Dark Lord vas very angry vith him, and the only vay to please him vas to bring me to him. He vas quite happy that I vas friends vith Herm-own-ninny."

"I can imagine," said Harry, drawing looks of puzzlement from his friends. "Voldemort said when he was reborn that Karkaroff was as good as dead."

"Ya. Karkaroff took me to see the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord vas very pleased vith him, and did not kill him, but he told me that I had to use my friendship vith Herm-own-ninny to get to you, Harry."

"How _dare_ you!" said Hermione, a quiet rage seething behind her eyes. All the anguish she had felt earlier had apparently been replaced by cold fury. "I can't believe he was right! All that time, you were using me! You were spying and reporting back to-to Voldemort!"

Ron looked as though he could have murdered Krum on the spot, and Hermione didn't seem too far short of that point. "Nyet. I vas not reporting back to him. I vas merely trying to gain your trust. My job vas to get you to come to Bulgaria, vere I could take you hostage, and get Harry to come and safe you." Harry didn't think Krum was helping his cause.

"Why are you here, then?"

"I vas sent here after last year, to try to hurry up the process. The Dark Lord vas growing impatient, and now vanted Herm-own-ninny for...terrible things. And Veasley's sister, and another girl, too. He said if I do not bring him these three, he vill take my Sonia and do to her these things, although she is pureblooded."

"Who gives a flying fuck if she's pureblooded!" screamed Ron. "You came to Britain to take Hermione, Ginny, and Luna back to Voldemort and make them his whores!"

"Ya," said Krum.

"Viktor," said Harry. "I believe there's a chance for you. You got pulled into this in a bad way, and I think you can get out of it, but I have to hand you over to the Order."

_Like Pettigrew?_ said a nagging voice in Harry's brain. He ignored it, and pointed his wand at Krum. "_Incarcerous._" Thick cords bound his arms and legs. "Now where the hell is Remus?"

* * *

Remus Lupin looked around his new surroundings, and decided that wherever he had apparated to, it wasn't Dunharrow Hill. Instead of the tree-covered summit and quarried slope that Neville had described, he found himself facing a railroad viaduct, a meandering stream, and a distant factory chimney. Looking around to make sure there were no Muggles visible, he tried again, focusing on the place Neville had described.

He failed. He was now in the middle of a pasture, with several bemused looking sheep staring blankly at him. With a disappointed sigh, he closed his eyes, pictured Grimmauld Place, and apparated back to Headquarters.

Tonks opened the door, but he failed to even greet her as he raced down the hallway, colliding painfully—and loudly—with the umbrella stand. The troll's leg crashed to the floor, and the curtains covering Mrs. Black's picture leapt apart. "FILTHY HALF-BREED! HIDEOUS MUTANT! BEGONE! BEGONE! YOU LEAD MY SON TO HIS DEATH! YOU FOUL BEAST!

"Tonks, do something to her!" he screamed, racing up the stairs as fast as he could. On the third floor, he finally paused before entering what was once the master suite of the house. Inside, instead of the sumptuous furniture that had once decorated it, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Remus bowed low, waiting for an acknowledgement, before he approached the creature. "Beaky, we've got to go! Harry's in trouble!" The hippogriff seemed to understand what he was saying, as he stood up, stretched his wings, and crooned towards the gaping hole in the roof that had been cut to let him in. Remus nodded briskly, climbed aboard, and took off into the late morning sky over London.

* * *

The sun had crept past the meridian, and was slowly descending in the western sky when Harry sighted a black speck on the southeastern horizon. He was hovering on his broom, about a hundred feet above the summit of Dunharrow Hill, while his friends kept watch on the bound Viktor Krum below. He quickly shot off wand sparks, and in a few moments, Ginny—on Ron's broom—and Luna had risen to meet him. "Over there," he said, pointing at the shape growing larger as it approached.

"It's a hippogriff," said Luna bluntly.

"How can you tell?" asked Ginny.

"Because of the shape of the beak. No true griffin has a beak like that." Harry didn't press the issue, and turned instead to the question of who was riding the hippogriff.

"Could it be..."

"It's Remus," said Luna, peering into the distance again. "He's riding a hippogriff. I didn't know he had one."

"It's Sirius'," said Harry reflexively, then realized that he had no idea who's hippogriff it was at the moment, and for all he knew, it might have been Draco Malfoy's, unless Sirius was cleared sometime soon.

Harry fired off another round of wand sparks, this time signaling to Remus, and sent Luna back to the ground to tell the others that the werewolf had finally arrived. "I'm proud of you, Harry," said Ginny once the other girl was out of earshot.

Harry's heart jumped. "Why?"

"The way you handled that. You're a real leader, you know, not like Fudge or Lockhart. You know how to make people follow you by doing the right thing."

Harry's stomach started doing flips, which he figured wasn't a good thing when hovering a hundred feet off the ground on a broom. "Thanks," he muttered, and focused intently on the now clealy defined form of Buckbeak, who was headed straight for the wand sparks.

Remus seemed to be handling the hippogriff with incredible skill, and Harry quickly concluded that it was not his first time riding Buckbeak. He swooped down over them, the wind from the massive wings fanning Harry and Ginny's hair, and called to them. "Go down to the ground. I'll meet you down there." They obliged, and soon found themselves explaining the whole story of Krum's involvement to Remus.

"A good thing you did, Harry." Ginny beamed at him, her own praise now affirmed by Lupin. Harry tried to stare straight at Remus. "I'll take him back to London with me after we get you situated. Can you all follow me?" They nodded. "Good. Ginny, take Krum's broom. I want him strapped on behind me. And keep up."

They flew southwest, straight into the rapidly setting sun, crossing mountain ranges, deep-cut valleys, and at least two rather large rivers. Twice Remus banked them in a hard loop to circumvent major Muggle cities, but for the most part, they stayed rather straight. Finally the blue of the Irish Sea gleamed in front of them, and they began to descend. As they came low enough, Harry could see what he presumed to be their goal—a small white cottage with a thatched roof, perched on a cliff overlooking the coast. Remus set Buckbeak down in the spacious back garden, and the six students settled around him.

"Okay," he said. "This is your new home-at least until September. There's a section of beach that you can go to, down the path from the front gate, and the back garden-which should be big enough for some mild Quidditch, if you stay low enough. Don't worry about doing magic—the wards are by far strong enough to prevent the Ministry detecting it. Stay within the bounds. That's very important. For right now, until we can cast the charm, stay in the house, on the beach directly at the foot of the cliff, or in the back garden. When we cast the charm, we might add some of the rest of the grounds into it-these woods for example."

"Is there food and such inside?" asked Ron. Hermione scowled at him. "Honestly, Hermione, I haven't eaten since this morning."

"There's some food, although I hope at least one of you is passable with cooking spells."

"You know my mother," said Ginny. "Did you think I'd escape primary school without being able to cook better than a house-elf."

"Lucky you," said Remus. "Oh, one more thing. There's a room in the basement—yes there's a basement—that has several locks on the outside of the door. That's my full-moon refuge at the moment, so try to restrain your curiosity when it comes to that." Everyone nodded. "Then I'll be off. Mr. Krum will need to come with me to the Order—for his own sake as much as for what he's done—but I should be back in the morning to chast the charm."

After Remus took off again, Harry and his friends set about exploring the house and its surroundings. The building itself was not quite as small on the inside as it had appeared from the air, but it was still rather cozy for six or seven people. The door they entered from the back garden opened onto a narrow hallway, connecting a comfortable sitting room with a small, homey kitchen that put Harry immediately in mind of The Burrow. From the sitting room, one set of stairs led upwards, and one down.

Harry assumed the downward stair led to Remus' quarters in the basement, and turned his attention to the second floor. The second story of the house was, in fact, a glorified loft, nestled close under the thatched roof. A single room ran the length of the house, broken only by the chimney extending upwards from the double fireplace that separated the two downstairs rooms. There was a grate on one side of the chimney, in which a fire was crackling. Six beds were arranged around the space on that side—above the sitting room—in a rough semicircle, with comfortable looking bedclothes piled on each one. Five of the beds were covered in gold sheets with red hangings, and the sixth in blue sheets with bronze hangings. Everyone had a good chuckle at Remus' attempt to play to their house loyalties.

Ron immediately claimed the end bed, opposite the arc from Luna's. Harry dropped his Firebolt on the one next to it, and Neville plopped down next to him. The two remaining girls shrugged, and claimed the last two beds—Hermione next to Neville, and Ginny beside Luna. "Reckon you're ready for some dinner?" asked Ron as they finished dragging their trunks upstairs.

"I get the hint," said Ginny. "Come on, Hermione, we're going to teach you how to work in a magical kitchen." Hermione's eyes lit up at the thought of learning a new skill—however mundane it might be—and she eagerly followed Ginny downstairs.

"I think I'll join them," said Luna after a moment, and she ambled down to the kitchen.

Harry lay back on his bed, relishing the comfort of a magically enhanced mattress after two weeks on the mangled, broken inner-spring bed he had at Privet Drive. "You were incredible today, Nev," he said at last. "We'd never have gotten out without it."

Neville turned red. "Well, you know...it's my area and all, so..."

"Nev," said Ron. "Take some pride in yourself. You fought a good fight today, like at the Ministry."

"Thanks, guys."

"Hey, Harry," said Ron. "You holdin' up okay? I know I've been kinda preoccupied, what with everything going on today, but, I mean, are you alright with...well, Bill told us what happened."

"What happened?" said Neville.

"Death Eaters attacked my Muggle relatives," said Harry. "They killed my aunt and my cousin. That's why I'm here now." Neville looked puzzled, so Harry launched into the whole tale of his upbringing. He recounted the blood magic that Dumbledore had invoked to protect him, his connection with Sirius, and finally, the prophecy.

"But...but, that's me, too," said Neville, a stunned look on his face

"Yeah, it is," said Harry. "But you haven't got this." He pulled his bangs up to reveal his scar. "Voldemort marked me as his equal. He could have just as easily chosen you. In fact, I think that was his next destination the night my parents died, but he never made it that far."

"He was going to come after me?"

"I wouldn't doubt it for a second. He only heard the first half of the prophecy, up through the part about being born to those who thrice defied him. So he narrowed down the field, found you and me, and decided not to take a chance. He got to me first, my mum invoked the sacrifice to save me, and he never made it as far as you."

"Well, thanks. I mean, you might have saved my life."

"Well, just think, Neville," said Ron. "If he'd changed the order around, you could have been the Boy-Who-Lived."

"No, thanks," said Neville. "No, offense, mate."

"None taken."

"Say," said Neville thoughfully. "Do you suppose that prophecy had anything to do with my parents, and what happened to them?"

"Might have," said Harry. "But I know that even if there hadn't been a prophecy, your parents and mine would have been targets for Voldemort anyway. I mean, look, they'd already escaped him three times each before we were born."

"Yeah," said Neville. "At least my parents are still alive," he said. "That means there's a chance, however small, that they could be healed."

"That's the spirit," said Hermione, appearing in the doorway. "I hate to interrupt your conversation, but dinner's ready." Ron jumped up and nearly ran her over in his haste to get down the stairs. Harry and Neville followed at a much more sedate pace.

After a very subdued dinner, Ron pulled out a chessboard from the shelves in the sitting room. "Chess, Harry?"

"Sure," he said. They settled into chairs in front of the fire, and soon the ground was littered with broken pawns, knights, and bishops. Hermione wandered over and sat down to watch—although she was still remarkably quiet after the events of the day.

"You okay, Hermione?" asked Harry.

She nodded. "I just can't believe...well..."

"I know," said Ron. "I mean, I never liked the guy, but I wouldn't have figured him for a Death Eater."

"People get pulled into things like that, though," said Harry. "How many of the Death Eaters do you think really wanted to be running around doing the bidding of Voldemort?"

"I know," said Hermione. "And he seemed really scared."

"I don't think he wanted to be one," said Ron. "I think he just got scared for his family. But I still don't forgive him for cheating on you," he added darkly.

"Ron, we were never dating," said Hermione. Ron's jaw dropped.

"But..."

"He wanted to after the Tournament, but I told him I wasn't ready. And then he told me last year he'd met a girl named Sonia, and they were dating now. And if you'd ever given me the chance to, Ron, I'd have told you that."

Ron opened and shut his mouth several times, but didn't seem capable of finding something to say.

"Well," said Harry, looking over the chessboard. "I think I'm going to turn in now." He walked up the stairs and into the bedroom.

He pushed open the door. There, with her back to him, stood Ginny, clad in nothing but her knickers, obviously changing into her nighshirt. "Hermione?" she said, not turning around.

Harry sputtered, unable to say anything. Ginny turned and saw him. "Oh my God!" Harry wanted to run. He wanted to turn and look away. He wanted to do anything, but he was rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to speak.

"Uh..." Ginny pulled her nightshirt hastily over her head, and Harry shook his. "Uh..."

Ginny was blushing, but nothing compared to the cherry red that Harry's face was. His skin was on fire. _Voldemort! Let me face Voldemort instead!_ "Sorry," he squeaked, his voice closer to a house-elf's than his own.

Ginny cracked a faint smile. "'Sokay. We should do something about that."

"Not much room," said Harry, his voice cracking again."

"No, not much," she said. "I'll give you space," she added, turning and practically running down the stairs.

* * *

Ginny raced down from the bedroom, grabbed Hermione by the collar of her jumper and pulled her into the kitchen. "What?" asked the older girl irritably.

"He noticed me!"

"What? What happened?"

"Harry! He walked in on me while I was changing. I was standing there in just my knickers, and he looked like...well..."

"Like Fleur had just walked in the room," Hermione offered.

"Just like that. Oh, Hermione, I should've been embarassed, but..."

"But by this point, you're so desperate to have him notice that you're too thrilled at his reaction to be embarassed," finished Hermione.

"Exactly. Does that make me a scarlet woman?"

"Not hardly."

"Is he any better?" asked Ginny, jerking her thumb towards the sitting room.

"Well, he finally realized I was never dating Viktor," said Hermione. "But I think he needs a while to recover from the shock. Of course, if he'd been any less of a prat about the whole thing last year, he would have known that from the start."

"Of course, but he even believed me when I said I was dating Dean," said Ginny incredulously.

"What? He bought that? I didn't know it was possible to be that thick. Everyone knows Dean fancies that girl from Ravenclaw."

"Mandy," said Ginny automatically.

"Yeah, that's it." A dark look came over Hermione's face. "Ginny, are you sure Harry didn't buy that line too?"

"Oh," said Ginny. Her face fell. "Well, I'll set him straight," she said.

"I hate to break up the girl talk," said Neville's voice from the doorway. "But we need to figure out how we can change for bed, since there's only one room." Both girls burst out laughing hysterically, causing Neville to sputter and ask what he had done.

Eventually, Hermione conjured a sign that read "BOYS" on one side, and "GIRLS" when a button on the top of it was pushed. The idea was that the sign would hang on the bedroom door, and let everyone know if someone was changing. A general agreement was made that everyone would have to be content with everyone else seeing their pyjamas or nightshirts. Harry and Ginny blushed furiously when this was brought up, but the practicality of the situation—and a well-placed glare from Hermione—kept their mouths shut.

* * *

The sun was streaming through the gaps in the thatch when Harry woke in the morning. Hermione was already awake, and had lit a fire in the grate on the second floor. "Remus floo called this morning," she said as Harry climbed out of bed. "He said he'd be here by ten to cast the Fidelius Charm. That should be fascinating. I've always wanted to see what that was like when it was cast."

"Hermione," said Harry. "I had a traumatic evening yesterday and it's first thing in the morning. I'm sure the Fidelius Charm is fascinating, but right now I'm more interested in breakfast."

"Oh, alright," she said. "Come on, Ginny showed me some charms to conjure food." Harry followed Hermione down to the kitchen, but for some reason, the image of Ginny in her knickers was burned into the front of his brain.

Bloody hell! I've been dreaming this all night, and I can't get it out of my head this morning!

The rest of his housemates trickled downstairs through the morning, and—with the exception of Neville and Luna—were seated around the fire when Remus flooed in. A moment later, Harry was surprised to see the fire glow green again, and Albus Dumbledore appeared through the fire. A third time the fire flared, and Mad-Eye Moody emerged from the flames. "Ah," said Dumbledore. "Let me explain a few things and then we can cast the charms."

He waved his wand and conjured a plush armchair in front of the fire, and sat facing the students. "As Remus told you all last night," he began, "this is the safe house. We are in Wales, on the north coast of that land. The standard Muggle-repelling charms and wards have already been applied to this property, and we will soon be casting the Fidelius Charm to protect you all. Alastor has graciously agreed to serve as your Secret-Keeper until the start of the school year."

Everyone's eyes flickered unconsciously to the grizzled form of Mad-Eye Moody standing mutely by the fireplace. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. There were few people he would trust to keep the secret more than the ex-Auror.

"I have to leave very soon, and leave you all to your own devices," said Dumbledore. "A member of the Order will be popping in about once a day to see you, but that's about it. I'm afraid we cannot spare any more."

"Quidditch?" said Ron. Hermione scowled at him, but Dumbledore smiled indulgently.

"There's a field behind the hill. You'll see it when you go out. Stay in that field, you're within the wards. Now, three things you have to know. I already told you that your Secret-keeper is Moody. He's as safe as they come, as you all know by now." There were nods around the room. "This"—he held up a parchment—"is a list of all the people who will _immediately_ be give access to the safe house. I want you to look at this and cross off anyone you don't personally feel is safe." He handed the parchment to Harry.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts Minerva McGonnegal, Professor at Hogwarts 

_Remus Lupin, Order of the Phoenix_

_Alastor Moody, Order of the Phoenix_

_Nymphadora Tonks, Order of the Phoenix_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt, Order of the Phoenix_

_Poppy Pomphrey, Order of the Phoenix_

_Daniel Smythe, Order of the Phoenix_

_Arthur Weasley, Family_

_Molly Weasley, Family_

_William Weasley, Family_

_Charles Weasley, Family_

_Frederick Weasley, Family_

_George Weasley, Family_

_Fleur Delacour, Family_

_Beatrice Longbottom, Family_

Leonard Lovegood, Family 

"Sound good to everyone?" said Harry as he finished reading. "Except, I wonder why Fleur is family on there?"

"Oh," said Ron. "Never got the chance to tell you. She and Bill are engaged now. Getting married next summer."

"My parents," said Hermione.

"Who is this Daniel Smythe?" asked Neville.

"Oh," said Ron. "He worked with Charlie in Romania. He's been here for a while helping Mum and Dad out."

"My parents," said Hermione, a little louder than before.

"Oh, now I remember," said Harry. "He must have been one of the ones who was at Privet Drive the day Aunt Petunia..."

"Right. He was with Bill the day before you got there. He's fully Muggle-born, so they need him a lot to help out with Muggle stuff."

"Ah—what, Hermione?"

"My _parents!_" she bellowed. "Muggles or not, you put my parents on that list right now, Harry Potter!"

"Got it," he said. "Not my list, though—blame Lupin." She continued to seethe as he wrote _Richard Granger_ and _Amanda Granger_ on the list.

"Hermione," said Lupin. "It won't be easy to get them here, with the Muggle-repelling charms and all."

"I know, but I'm not having Moody keep them away out of paranoia." She flashed a nervous smile at the Secret-Keeper, who scowled at her, then looked rather fondly at—or through—the back of her head as she turned away.

"Well, Potter," growled Moody. "Let's get the others down here and get on with it. Are they having a lie-in?"

"They're out in the garden," said Ginny. "Neville brought some plant cuttings."

"What? You're in a safe-house! Don't wander!"

"Alastor," said Dumbledore calmly. "I'm sure Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood have not wandered. And given their mutual fondness for Herbology, to say nothing of Mr. Weasley's near-obsession with Quidditch, I think we really should give them some space outdoors within the charm, don't you think?"

"Well...I suppose...ah, got them. Not too far away." He focused his magical eye on the wall opposite the kitchen door. "I'll fetch them."

When they were fetched, neither looking at all pleased at having been deprived of the chance to tend their deadly herb patch, Dumbledore began to explain the Fidelius charm. And Harry began to doze.

_When did Dumbledore start channelling Binns_?

"—the Secret-keeper can escort anyone into the building personally without breaking the charm—"

_At least its warm in here. But the walls are too damned white. We need to paint them._

"—Alastor is not someone who would be immediately suspect—"

_Ginny looks nice this morning. Not as nice as last night. Damn! Stop thinking that!_

"—you have to stay within the bounds we've given you—"

_Wonder what Neville and Luna were _really _up to out there?_

"Potter! Wake up!"

_Damn. Moody caught me._

"We're going to perform the charm now. Now, all six of you are the owners of the secret. I need you to stand in a circle, please, and point your wands inward and down." There was some fumbling as everyone moved around the couch, the chessboard, and the fireplace tools to get into a circle. "Alastor, if you would stand in the center, please." Ron and Harry parted to let Moody through. "Now, Alastor, place your wand in the air. You six, focus very hard on Alastor. Alastor, I want you to focus on this house, and the bounds we discussed. On three, speak the incantion. One...two...three..."

"FIDELIUS!" Seven voices called out the charm at once, and a shimmering gold light flew from all six wands in the circle, surrounded Moody, and then shot out of his wand in an effect very similar to the wand-bonding that had saved Harry's life in the graveyard. He couldn't see where the segments of golden light ended, but he assumed if he hadn't fallen asleep—sort of—while Dumbledore explained it, he might know.

"Well," said Dumbledore when the light faded. "With that done, I think Alastor and I should return to Headquarters. Oh, Harry, there is still the slight matter of Sirius' will needing to be resolved. I think we can arrange for that to be done some other time, though." With that, Dumbledore and Moody disappeared through the floo back to wherever they had come from.

"Harry," said Remus. "I know you don't really want to think about it, but Albus is right. Sirius' will needs to be resolved at some point. It's not really very simple, nor is it all clear what will be allowed or disallowed, but the straightforward provision is that I'm to be your guardian until you're seventeen. If you don't mind, that is."

"No," he said. The thought that Sirius was really gone came crashing back for a moment, and the sadness and emptiness he had felt since that night at the Ministry flooded his brain. "No, that would be wonderful."

"Well," said Remus. "I would offer to let you live with me, but you already are. Just remember what I told you yesterday at The Burrow, and don't get too down. I should be here to see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Remus," said Hermione.

"Yeah, thanks," said Harry fondly, feeling a surge of affection for his father's last remaining friend.

By that night, Hermione was fully recovered from her shock over Viktor, and was showing great interest in Harry and Ron's game of chess.

Luna had taken Neville off for a nocturnal expedition in search of some sort of creature, and Ginny was upstairs working on summer homework. The flames cast a faint glow over the whitewashed walls, which Harry thought again needed something done to them. "Check."

"Knight to e3. We should paint the walls in here"

"Castle to e3. Check. Why?" Harry shook his head. Ron was really too good at this.

"One of these days, Ron, one of these days. King to f1. Because they're too damned white. I feel like I'm in St. Mungo's."

"Queen to f5. Checkmate." He paused to sweep the board clean. "Not today, Potter."

"Beating you at chess or painting the walls?"

"Neither. Beating me at chess, never; painting the walls, tomorrow."

"Ha, ha," he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a sight of Ginny changing the sign on the door from "GIRLS" to "OPEN" as she went in. "I think I'm going to go up to the bedroom for a minute," he said.

Ginny was sitting up reading in her bed when Harry found her. "Hey, Ginny."

"Hey, did my brother kick your arse at chess again?"

"Yes. I think we need to paint the walls in the sitting room. I don't suppose you're any good with color charms."

"No, that was always Bill's job. Why did you decide to come up?"

"Ah, I was tired of losing, and I realized I hadn't seen you much...well...I mean, talked to you much. So I decided to come up here and visit my conscience."

"Stop calling me that," she said, but there was a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Only when you stop saving me from myself."

"Just paying you back for the Chamber. Speaking of that, did you know Fred and George have created a whole kit of fireworks of _The Adventures of Harry Potter_?"

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes, I'm afraid."

"Look, I'm sorry about the other night. I honestly didn't know you were up here. Just...I mean, I like Dean, I wouldn't want to mess with—"

"Oh, honestly, you too? Do you know Mandy Brocklehurst?"

"Uh..."

"Ravenclaw? Your year? The girl Dean Thomas has fancied since my second year?"

"But on the train, you said—"

"To wind Ron up, not because it was true. He was being a git, telling me what to do and everything. I just decided to shut him up."

"Oh, well, I mean...I still didn't mean to walk in on you like that."

"Harry, don't worry about it. I have six brothers, seriously. It's not the first or the last time it's happened."

"Oh. Um...so is there anything going on with your brother and Hermione I ought to know about?"

"Well, we all know they fancy each other, have since the Ball, but Ron's too thick to realize she fancies him, and she's too insecure to tell him, so they've been dancing around each other since school got out. Oh, Harry, you should've seen him after the Ministry. He was so worried, he barely left her side in the Hospital.

"Is she better?"

"Getting there. I just would hate to be Dolohov if Ron ever catches up with him."

"He have any problems from the brains?"

"Not that I've seen, but, then, he's been confiding more and more in _'Mione_."

"Oh, no. He isn't calling her that, is he?" She nodded, smirking. "When'd that start?"

"Last week. Sickening, really."

"Inevitable is more like it."

"You ever have that feeling about her?"

"Hermione? Heck, no. She's...I dunno...like my sister. That's like asking you if you fancy _Ron_!"

"Oh, okay. Good." She rolled over and looked back at her book. "Potions," she hissed. "Is there a point to any of this?"

"Not with Snape teaching," said Harry. "I think I'm going to turn in," he said. Just watch the book for a moment." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was shocked at the boldness. He hadn't asked her to leave the room or anything. Blushing furiously, he changed as rapidly as possible and dove behind his bed hangings. He tried desperately to sleep, but the sight of Ginny kept dancing on the back of his eyelids until, exhausted, he finally managed to drift into dreams—dreams of Ginny.


End file.
